Pelorus
by Enchantable
Summary: When the Ishida dynasty reveals an heir, Soul Society decides to destroy the Quincy's-despite the shaky truce between the two races. Betrayal forces Shinigami Tatsuki and Quincy Uryuu to work together to uncover a secret that could save or damn them both
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all!**

**So, welcome to the newest fic! A few things before we get started:**

**-This is AU which means everything is in an alternate world. There's no high school, everyone's a Shinigami except for Uryuu and they've all never met. **

**-Quincy's have rebuilt themselves into a much larger group, their numbers are substantial. Also they all belong to Orders which is another name for the family or region they come from. **

**-All credits for the idea go to La_Kalaka who suggested an AU storyline of: **

**"Two hundreds years has passed after the Quincy massacre, the wounds never closed, the hatred keeps still and the two groups maintain their hostility towards each others despite the truce between them.  
In this universe, a recently promoted shinigami oficial called Tatsuki Arisawa meets Ishida Uryuu the young heir of the last Quincy clan on earth. "**

**I though it was a great idea, tweaked it to suite my muse and got permission from the truly awesome La_Kalaka to do the story. **

**So here you go!**

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With a low grunt, the Eleventh Division member fell hard against the packed dirt of the training ground.

Dirt stained his uniform and that of his opponent but neither was willing to back down from the fight. Both had garnered their share of bruises and injuries. Blood spotted both their uniforms and skin, caking the dirt to their bodies and cuts. Yet even as the man hit the ground he rolled and landed on his feet, turning to face his opponent. Viciously the back of his opponents hand came up and wiped at the back of their mouth, throwing blood from their split lip aside. It would be spectacular, just as he could feel his own right eye throbbing viciously. He knew he wasn't going to be seeing out of it for the next few days, just like his shoulder was going to give him trouble for longer than that. He knew his opponent was going to have their own mess of issues and the more vicious part of him enjoyed that--almost as much as he enjoyed the fact he was going to have his own bruises and marks to show he'd come through the fight without being hurt too badly.

They lunged at the same time. his fist streaking out as his opponent tumbled to the side, avoiding the attack without any visible effort. Before he could move out of the way, a hand fastened on his wrist and a foot slammed into his ribs with enough force to knock the breath out of his lungs and double him over. His opponent jumped back, landing easily on the dirt ground and sliding seamlessly into a fighting stance. He went to straiten up but pain hot and sharp flared across his ribs and he found it impossible to stand up fully. Swearing he shook his head, pressing his hands into his knees as his body refused to co-opperate with him. It was even worse when his opponent stepped fully into his line of view and wiggled their bare toes.

"Enough!" the command was barked, "Ibuki you're eight. Arisawa, you're fourth."

Swearing at the bitch's toes of steel, Akimoto Ibuki looked at the woman standing in front of him. It wasn't the fact that Tatsuki Arisawa was a girl that pissed him off. He'd have been pissed off if it was a boy as petite that kicked his ass. Even the top of her spiky hair barely came up to his shoulder--and her hair was very spiky. Like many members of the Division whose talents were in hand to hand combat, her knuckles were covered with black fabric. It was also wrapped around her shins, binding the loose fabric of her hakama and around the arch of her foot. Normally she wore shoes but to fight she took them off--something half the Eleventh Division was convinced was because she wanted them to know that a five foot tall, ninety pound girl could beat them without wearing shoes. Seamlessly she turned to face their Captain and bowed.

"Thank you, sir!" she said, her voice once again reminding them all that they should not think of the girl as delicate.

"Yeah Yeah," the Captain said gruffly, "get that to the Fourth and come by my office."

Another bow and the Captain lumbered off, sword slung over his shoulder. The few others who had watched the promotion ceremony went off--probably inspired to participate in fights of their own. From his bent position, Akimoto raised his head to look at the new Fourth Seat. He'd known going into the fight that he probably wasn't going to come out on top but even so, being beaten so badly wasn't something he was particularly proud of, even with the bruises that showed on Tatsuki's face. They both knew that if she tried she could be pretty. Maybe not truly gorgeous like Captain Shihon or delicate beauty like Lieutenant Kuchiki, but she could be much prettier than the dirtied, bloody woman who stood in front of him now with her hands by her side and her eyes trailing after the Captain.

As if coming to herself, Tatsuki jerked and turned towards him. Akimoto forced himself to try to stand, even as he knew it was a lost cause. Tatsuki easily strode over to him and grabbed his shoulder. A burst of _Shunpo_ later, they were outside the Fourth, her upright and him doubled over further, choking on whatever his lungs hacked up in protest. Tatsuki strode over to the door and drew back her fist, banging on it loudly. It took only moments for an unseated member of the Fourth division to come to the door. His eyes moved across the pair of them before settling on Akimoto. A look of displeasure flitted across his gaze, like most of the Fourth he disapproved of the more rowdy of the Eleventh Division members for more than just being injury prone.

"How long as he been like this?" he asked.

"Less than a minute," Tatsuki replied, "I used _Shunpo_ to get him here."

"Of course," the healer said, "thank you for bringing him Arisawa."

"No problem," Tatsuki said, not bothering to use her new status, "you got it from here?"

"Yes," he said with the infuriatingly gentle smile that the Fourth seemed to specialize in as he guided Akimoto into the Division building.

Tatsuki watched the members of the Fourth lead the new Eight Seat of the Eleventh Division away. She didn't feel bad about beating him, nor beating him so soundly. After all, if it wasn't him being led into the Fourth, Tasuki knew it would have been her. Besides, a few bits of Kido and Akimoto would be back in fighting form--quite literally. Well he wouldn't be any different from the other members of the Eleventh. It took nothing to get them to fight, she supposed if he tried to fight her for revenge it would hardly be strange. She wouldn't put it above him anyway. She remembered her first days in the Eleventh when she had been so sure everyone want to fight her because she was a girl. Now she knew better. They wanted to fight her because she was a good fighter. Because beating her would mean something.

If they could beat her that was.

Even now the promotion didn't seem real to her. She had been a good fighter and her time at the Eleventh had only made her better, but even so the idea that she was now Fourth Seat just blew her mind. She knew she probably didn't deserve it either but Fourth Seat was taken and by beating the new Eight she had effectively bypassed being one of the lower Seats. Fourth! Whether it was because of the Fifth's vanity or some other strange twist, she didn't care. She was a Seated Officer now. No more taking orders from everyone in the entire Division, no more running papers and struggling to hold her tongue every second. She couldn't go all out, that much she knew, but she was a hell of a lot closer now. She barely even felt the torn skin on her knuckles, her heart was beating so fast.

She did not immediately go into _Shunpo_ to get back to her Division. Her head felt light, and not just from the fight. She had a feeling the Captain could tell her the most important news ever and as she knew that it would go through one ear and out the other. And that would never do. Not now. Not for the Captain. Orders that weren't followed right the first time were essentially the signature on your transfer papers out of there. If there was one thing Tatsuki was sure of, it was that there was not another Division that she wanted to be a part of. Oh she could imagine that the other Captains would see some advantage in having her there but she couldn't see it in them. Not now, not when she was finally getting somewhere in the Eleventh. If anything this promotion only confirmed what she knew. Fighting--more importantly fighting effectively--it got you somewhere in the Eleventh. More than talent at a single one of the Shinigami Arts got you in the other Divisions.

Passing by the Fifth Division, Tatsuki's feet paused of their own accord.

She had once thought that everything she ever wanted lay inside the polished exterior of the Fifth Division. Not just because of what the Fifth represented, but because of _who_ it represented. There had been a time when she had been sure that everything was there. She had been such a starry eyed fool, so intent on practice and still filled with the certainty that if she just worked hard she would get everything that she had ever wanted. That was back when they still believed their Academy Instructors, when the Shinigami who walked by them represented the beacons of hope and pride they all strove to be. That dream of the people in the world being full of equals had crashed and burned pretty fast--she just wished it had been faster.

Shaking herself, Tatsuki shook her head and pushed herself into _shunpo_. Her. Daydreaming. What was the world coming to? It took her a very short time to get to the Eleventh Division. No-one paid her disheveled appearance a second glance. Bruises and all, she still fit with the riff raff milling about or getting ready for their next fight. The Eleventh Division didn't make the same effort as the others to give a facade of purity. The gate that encircled the Division was sturdy but simple and the building's in the Division were few and far between. Their training floors were dirt and hard packed with the weight of the members throwing themselves whole heartedly into their training. Tatsuki knew that most of the time their uniforms were more brown or red than they were black. The dirt, the blood--it was no different from what the other Divisions were covered in. The only difference was that they were not as inclined to wash.

The Eleventh wore the blood proudly.

Striding through the Division's training field, Tatsuki marched towards the building she knew the Captain was in. She'd been in there many times. The same hierarchy that most Divisions held to was not really applied within the confines of the Eleventh. She'd sparred most of the upper ranks of the Division--ranks to which she now could count herself. Except the Captain, she'd only sparred him once and that one time was more than enough for her. Her arm still ached when she thought about it. Tatsuki pushed open the door and walked through into the training room. The Captain was sitting on the ground, glaring at the papers spread out in front of him without a desk in sight. Tatsuki walked forward, stopping when she was close enough to be able to see the words on the paper.

"Eh? Arisawa--" the Captain's head jerked up as he fixed her with his gaze, "Ibuki's off being healed?"

"Yes sir," she said, "the Fourth didn't think there'd be any problem."

"Yeah, well, that's the Fourth for you," he said getting seamlessly to his feet, "mission came in today. I'm putting you on it."

"Yes sir," Tatsuki said, thinking that she would be commanding a team.

"Cool your heals. Your part's a solo mission," he said.

"Sir?"

"You were good in fighting Ibuki today. People look at you and they don't think you can kick their ass. That's good for this."

"Sir, don't stealth missions usually go to the Second?" Tatsuki asked.

"Yeah, so? Second's been trying to get their claws in you for years now. I always told them off," he shrugged before swiping the paper off the ground, "like I was saying, this is going to be a good mission for you. Hand to hand combat, not a lot of Kido skill--hell you don't even rely on your Zanpakuto half the time."

"Not always sir," Tatsuki agreed.

"This mission's in the transient world," the Captain said consulting the paper, "some shithole called Karakura Town--think its right outside Tokyo but who cares?" he shrugged and looked at Tatsuki, "your mission's to go to the signing of a treaty."

"Bodyguard detail, sir?" she asked, her brow furrowing. That was absolutely the Second Division's jurisdiction.

"Yeah," he agreed roughly, "you could say that. How good's your history Arisawa?"

"Decent," Tatsuki said.

"Yeah, well, then you know about their damn treaties and all the bureaucratic crap they've got going on," he made a sound of disgust, "a whole bunch of their Orders are getting together for some treaty bullshit."

"Is the Commander General attending?" she asked.

"No," Tatsuki frowned, "there ain't gonna be no Shinigami there--none they'll know about anyway."

Tatsuki stared at him, something unpleasant coiling in her stomach. Her mind quickly calculated that if this was a major treaty then there would be the upper echelons of Quincy society there, probably representatives from the minor Orders too. She guessed it made sense for Soul Society to place a spy within, just to figure out what was going on, but her mind still told her that this was the Second Division's jurisdiction, not the Eleventh. The Captain finally balled the paper he held in his hand and threw it over his shoulder before he faced her fully. Tatsuki quickly stood at attention, trying to focus on him and not the suspicion she could feel inside.

"Ask it," he said, "its written all over your face. You want to know why Soul Society'd use us instead of the Second."

"Well, yeah--"

"Old man said it was for us. Don't know why. Maybe he wants it messy. Maybe he's thinkin of last time when the Second lost five people to one of those damn Quincys. Maybe he's thinkin something else. Doesn't matter. He gave you the mission," he said.

"And what is that mission, sir?" she asked, succeeding in keeping the wariness out of her tone.

"The leader of the chief Order, Ryuuken Ishdia, he's got a brat. A kid he managed to keep hidden away all these years, the bastard. 'Course now he's got an heir and Soul Society doesn't like that. Can't have the Ishida's maintaining their dynasty."

Tatsuki stared at him. He wasn't saying it but they both knew why the Second Division hadn't gotten this mission. A few of the damn Quincy tricks and they'd be able to trace whatever the Second used back to the attacks with Spiritual Power would have the same result. They didn't want a graceful assassination, one done with the kind of skill the Second could employ. They wanted the Eleventh because they did not want it to be traced back to Soul Society. If there was another team, Tatsuki could only assume that they were going to take care of the rest of them in the brutal way that only the Eleventh could. Quincy's were all about grace, grace, elegance and power but in a test of brute strength Tatsuki would stake her last dollar on the Eleventh.

She tried to find fault with the idea as it settled over her but she couldn't. It would be nice to have one less thing to worry about in the world. On the list of things to worry about Quincy's ranked very high. Especially now with their numbers as strong as they were. If he was allowed to come to power, Ryuuken's son would rule nothing short of an empire. The fragile truce between the two races was quickly becoming obsolete. Power was tipping and if the Ishida Dynasty maintained its iron grip there was a very good chance they would be facing another war. It made sense, getting rid of the problem before it became a real issue. Tatsuki looked at her Captain and met his gaze squarely with her own.

"Whose my target?"

"The son," he said, "even if some of them escape, as long as the Ishida dynasty's broken it'll be centuries before they re-mass."

"Sounds good to me," Tatsuki said, "what's his name?"

"Uryuu Ishida."

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**And that's the first chapter! **

**Please review! With crazy pairings like this your reviews really do mean a lot--okay they mean a lot even when the pairing makes more sense. My plan is for this to be an epic-length fic (20-30 chapters) and your reviews will make my update pace significantly faster!**

**So review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Uryuu Ishida watched the partygoers arrive with an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

They came, dressed so elaborately that they could have been mistaken for flowers on the perfectly manicured grounds of the manor. It was close to sunset and from his windows he could see the servants beginning to light the lanterns in preparation for the night. Soft gold glows began to spring up, complimenting the bright colors of the partygoers. So far everything was going flawlessly, which was essential given that it had been over two decades since the manor had seen a party like this.

Over two decades since his mother had died.

Swallowing against the odd tightness, Uryuu moved away from the window, resisting the urge to adjust the uncomfortable garb he wore. The white tunic was tight on his throat and down his arms but slits at the hips ensured some freedom of movement. The tunic itself came down almost to his knees. The tight pants were also white, as was the cape around his shoulders. In the mirror to his right he caught a glimpse of himself, an exact replica of how his father had been at his age, right down to the sour look and glasses.

Forcing his expression into a neutral one, Uryuu looked away from the mirror and around the room. He knew that this would be the last time he stood in this place with the weight of his secret pressing down on him. The last time he would walk through the doors of the room with the knowledge that he and a handful of others shared. It was both thrilling and terrifying to think that in a few short hours all the people arriving would connect the name of his father's heir with _his_ face.

The Ishida Dynasty would continue after all.

Uryuu felt his lips quirk up at the thought. His father had played the game very well, flawlessly even, letting the other Orders think that they had a chance at breaking the long-standing dynasty while at the same time making certain Uryuu had grown up far away from the dangerous power struggles. As a child he had not understood, as a teenager he had been filled with resentment. Now as an adult he understood, but as he stood on the edge of taking his place as the head of the family, he was only filled with regret for the course of action his father had taken after his mother's death.

Clearing his throat, Uryuu reached to his chest and touched the silver amulet that hung there, one that almost every man and woman gathered below his feet also wore. At a moment's notice they could all summon bows made of pure light and destroy anything that stood in their way. His father, while avoiding mention of that, had always insisted he join the local archery clubs. He had gotten very good and, as it turned out, very resentful of his father. Archery had paid his way through university and his academics would have paid his way through medical school if not for his father and the so-called "family business'.

Which he knew nothing of how to run.

Taking a deep breath, Uryuu turned back to the window and crossed the expanse of the room to his earlier position, resting one of his hands on the frame of the window that took up the entirety of the wall. The floor to ceiling windows of the room were common theme on the house, as were the antiques and the dark wood. And, of course, the smell of cigarettes. The lavish manor was a far cry from the student housing he had loosely called 'home' until a few weeks ago.

"Uryuu."

Uryuu looked over his shoulder, unsurprised that his father had not knocked but also that he had not heard him enter the room. Closing the door quietly, his father stepped fully into the room. He was dressed identically, down to the cross that rested on his chest. His father produced a cigarette and lighter from seemingly no-where and lit up, the faded smell of cigarettes immediately becoming more pronounced.

His father was silent as he stood there, the smoke curling in the last of the dying light that streamed through the windows. Uryuu glanced away from his father and back out the window. If all the guests had arrived then he had been standing up in the room longer than he thought. Quickly he returned his gaze to his father's, the reflection of the light on the older man's glasses making it impossible to see his father-though he doubted that would make his father any easier to read.

"Is it time Ryuuken?" Uryuu asked, clearing his throat at the odd hoarseness in his tone.

"Yes," his father said, his tone short as he exhaled with smoke with a bit more force than before, "come."

The sick feeling in his stomach doubled as his father turned around and walked to the door. No asking if he was ready, no show of concern, not that Uryuu would expect such a thing for the man who saw his son occasionally when his school was closed and Uryuu had not found another way to occupy his time. Forcing movement into his legs, Uryuu crossed the expanse of the room to the door and fell into step behind his father.

The hallway was spacious as well, the arches reaching well over his head. Stained glass lined the windows here, the last rays of the light colored by the ornate scenes set into the glass. Scenes that told the past of the people he was expected now to begin to lead. He was supposed to be studying the first of his medical textbooks, for the school that had offered him a scholarship. He was supposed to be preparing for the life that he had chosen, the life that his father had made it clear he had no interest in being a part of.

He was not ready for this.

The light changed as the stained glass ended and the windows became clear once more. The sun was almost gone now, the bright lanterns strung up over the grounds casting a golden glow on the party goers spread out below them. His feet stopped without him realizing it as he faced the windows. Even though he had watched them arrive, Uryuu had not realized how many people there were gathered to meet the 'new' heir to the Ishida Dynasty.

"Don't fool yourself," his father said with a snort that sent a puff of smoke dangerously close to Uryuu's face, "there isn't a person down there who wouldn't kill you if they had the chance."

Down below, Tatsuki fought the urge to cover herself as she looked at the party goers. Everyone was a good head taller than her, something she took note of more out of habit than distaste. She was used to being short and having a low center of gravity was essential to her fighting-not that there was any way she was going to be fighting her way out of this one in the ridiculous costume she had been put in.

For all that Soul Society wanted a splashy assassination, they had taken a lot of trouble to ensure she fit right in with the crowd. The dress she wore was tight, made of bandages of fabric wrapped around her body. It began low on her chest and ended high above her knees, yet still managed to be constricting enough that if she had to fight her way out of this mess Tatsuki doubted she'd be able to do it with any sort of modesty in tact.

The gigai she used was designed to resemble her but while her own dark hair was cropped, now it was tucked underneath a wig that gave her shiny locks that fell past her shoulders almost to her waist. Though she had let the hair fall in front of her shoulders in an effort to offer some modesty to the dress she wore, she made sure that it did not hide the silver cross hanging around her neck.

Quincys were all about the pride, after all.

Taking a sip of the cocktail in her hand, Tatsuki glanced about the room. She had been told there would be others but she was not to know of them. In her experience, however, it was usually easy to spot the shinigami who were assigned to a task force, their eyes would always linger. However, as her eyes cast about the room it seemed that far more eyes than usual were on her. For a moment Tatsuki felt a stab of fear in her gut as she looked at them with their eyes on her.

And then she realized that their eyes were not on her at all.

They were on her body, displayed in the dress. Tatsuki gripped the drink tighter, fighting the urge to cross her arms or run. She was used to being the girl but when she was with the men from her division she could make jokes or kick their asses to show that if they had a problem with her being the girl then she had a problem with them being weak. But kicking asses here was the opposite of what needed to happen. She had no choice but to stand there and act like she enjoyed the attention. It was both sickening and infuriating and any sort of remorse she felt for what was about to happen to the poor saps evaporated.

Uryuu Ishida needed to get a move on so she could kill him and go home.

From the few people she had spoken to, no-one knew anything about the man except that he had grown up in a series of boarding schools, which was apparently his father's idea of keeping him safe, though how that qualified him to the largest Quincy order was beyond her. Well it wasn't like the fool was going to get a chance to test his skill anyway.

"Lovely party, isn't it?" a voice said to her right.

"Yes," Tatsuki said quickly, flashing a gentle smile at the man to her right, "is this your first time at the Ishida Manor?"

"I'm afraid so," he said with his own quick smile, "it is beautiful though."

Tatsuki nodded, looking at the man. He was dressed in a suit, his black hair just long enough to fit in the short ponytail he had pulled it into. Like her he wore a quincy cross, the black tie serving as a perfect backdrop for the silver. There was something about him that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, something _off_.

"There they are," he said, nodding upwards.

Tatsuki followed his gaze to the windows. Two figures clad in white, one with dark hair and one with grey had paused at the window. They were too far away for her to make out anything past their basic shapes, but if they were in the private quarters of the manor house then they had to be the last two members of the dynasty.

"How can you be certain?" she asked, feigning stupidity for more information.

"They're dressed in Quincy robes," he said, "stupid move if you ask me," he continued.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"There are more people who want that heir of his dead than want him to take over," he said.

"Really?" Tatsuki looked at him sharply, "like who?"

"Like most of the people in this room," he said glancing around, "or out here," he amended glancing around before looking at her, "or Soul Society."

Tatsuki looked at him, surprise on her face though she hoped it had enough horror to make her look scared and outraged at the prospect of a member of Soul Society infiltrating the grounds of a Quincy Manor. The man gave her a look, as if he found her horror to be amusing before he quickly arranged his features into something closer to sympathy, a look that was both infuriating and relieving to the Shinigami.

"I'm sure its nothing to worry about," the man said, "if you'll excuse me, I must pay my respects to a few others," he added with a smile, walking past her.

A strange glimmer of warmth came over Tatsuki as he walked past, his arm lightly brushing her front. Time seemed to slow as her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. Fighting back the urge to be sick, Tatsuki focused on the manor house, forcing herself to take slow, steady breaths. The point of this all was not to attract attention to herself before the moment was right and being sick all over the floor was most definitely going to attract the kind of attention she did not want. Tearing her eyes from the house, Tatsuki looked in the direction that the man had wandered off in but the crowd had already swallowed him, the tinkering of glasses and low murmur of voices acting as the perfect camouflage.

Forcing the feeling aside as best she could, Tatsuki moved into the crowd, her eyes searching for the pony tailed man, already knowing that she was not going to see him. But the rush of heat, the burst of cool, all of that happened too clearly to be something else. So either that man was a Shingiami playing a strange prank or his allegiances lay elsewhere and she was in serious trouble.

The conversation began to die down around her and trouble, it seemed, was the way to go. Stopping before the high heels she wore could make more noise, Tatsuki glanced in the direction that everyone seemed to be looking, already knowing that she was not going to like what she saw.

Sure enough, there stood Ryuuken Ishida and, behind him, was a man who could only be his son.

Tatsuki hated going into a conflict unsettled, being nervous meant that she was less on her game. And for a mission like that could mean disaster. Forcing her discomfort and worry aside, Tatsuki looked at the pair of men standing on the steps leading down to the grounds that they stood on. If that man had done something to her, if he had compromised the gigai she wore than she was going to have to move even quicker than she normally would.

The two men could have been photographs of the same man, taken at different points in time. Both were thin, dressed in the same tight white outfits. From the glasses they wore to the cuts of their hair, the similarities were startling even before one saw they had the same sharp jaw and stern mouth. But while the older man surveyed the people spread out before him with a look akin to disdain, the younger looked like he was trying to hide his nerves.

The white haired man took a drag on his almost finished cigarette, letting the smoke blow out into the air. He made no move to speak, to introduce the young man standing behind him though it was painfully obvious that all eyes were on him. However from the look in the young man's eyes being the center of attention was not something he relished. The grey haired man extinguished his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stomped it out with an almost elegant twist of his ankle before walking down the steps to join the rest of them.

The younger man seemed almost lost, as if he was not sure what to do. Knowing that time was not on her side, Tatsuki quickly edged her way through the crowd, feeling the cold shiver that had worked its way through her leave, her body becoming neutral once more. Pushing aside that brief comfort she made her way to the edge of the crowd as it tried, and largely failed, to turn its attention away from the young heir.

When he finally came down the steps, the first person he walked beside was her, his shoulder gently bumping into her back, giving her the perfect excuse to turn to him.

"My apologies-" he began.

"Its fine," she said quickly, smiling, "formal Quincy wear," she continued, "you certainly know how to make an entrance."

"My father does," he replied.

"Well its effective," she said.

"I would introduce myself," he began.

"But I already know who you are," she said.

He looked at her curiously from behind his glasses and Tatsuki wondered if she was flirting too much with him. The second Division had advised that she try to flirt somewhat to get close to him, but Tatsuki knew acting like that was not one of her strong suites. Heat began to creep up her and she hoped that her face was not too red.

"I cannot say the same," he said.

"Oh," she smiled but the heat did not go away, "I'm Rika Matsuo," she said giving the alias of a member of one of the smaller, more obscure Orders.

"You have traveled far to be here," he said.

"Well we would not want to miss your debut," she replied, glancing around at the people surrounding them, "though it seems like the other orders feel the same."

"Most of them," Uryuu replied.

"There are more?" Tatsuki demanded, looking at him, her mask slipping.

"Many," Uryuu said, giving her a puzzled look.

"I mean, of course," she said, "there are just a lot of people here."

"Yes," Uryuu agreed, glancing at the brightly dressed crowd, "there are."

He looked back at the petite Quincy in front of him. With her tumble of dark hair and tight fitting dress, it was easy to think that the eyes that kept daring their way were not on him alone. She was not the kind of girl he would approach at one of those silly parties his college friends dragged him to and yet he found that talking to her was not entirely unpleasant, even if she had spent her life training to be a Quincy and soon would have to look to him for leadership.

"Well thats-" she began, before stopping, color blossoming on her cheeks, "thats very interesting," she continued, pressing a hand to her sternum, right below where her cross dangled.

"Are you alright?"

Tatsuki looked up at him, her lips parting to say that there was something seriously wrong. The heat was building but it was focused and, worse, it felt draining. Moving her hand from her sternum Tatsuki snatched her hand away as she looked down at the Quincy Cross hanging around her neck.

It was glowing.


End file.
